Thread, Vine, Wind, and Wire
by BurningBritelyOne
Summary: CH 8!! Sandry, Briar, Tris, and Daja are finally reunited. The four young mages must learn to readjust to their new selves as problems arise in Emelan. The only hope for their home may well lie in the reconnection of the Circle of Magic.
1. The End of a Journey

Part 1 - The End of a Journey  
  
  
The boy looked out across the fields. They were so close now that he didn't even have to squint; even from where he was he could see the towering walls of the only place he had ever considered his real home. He'd seen many places in his seventeen years of life, especially throughout his travels during the last three. But there was something, or rather certain people, at Winding Circle Temples that would always make this place different from the rest.  
  
"Slow down, boy. They'll still be there," came a slightly slurred bark from the scowling woman riding alongside him. Of course, the boy hadn't been going any faster than she was; nevertheless, that simple command made his shoulders relax and breath whoosh out in a sigh. He glanced over at the woman as he did this, privately smirking to himself over her behavior. Her shortly cropped auburn hair whisped around her beautifully mean face in the breeze. She sat rigidly straight in her saddle, showing every appearance of being bored and irritated at the same time. In her mid-thirties, Rosethorn was a credit to her name: lovely as a rose and as dangerous as its thorn. Most people who might see her in her present state would say she was simply in a bad mood. The boy, having lived with her for the past seven years, knew differently. She was just as excited and eager to reach Winding Circle as he was. She just didn't want to show it.  
  
"You're calling me 'boy' again?" he wanted to know, teasing her.  
  
"When you act like one," was the sharp retort.  
  
He chuckled to himself. Sometimes he thought that nothing made Rosethorn happier than to rudely boss someone around. Namely, him. Of course, he didn't really care since he knew she meant nothing by her insults. He'd taken worse in his day, anyway.  
  
"We'll probably be there just in time for dinner. Why don't you tell one of the girls so they know to expect us, _Briar_," Rosethorn suggested, emphasizing his name.  
  
Ever since the first year that Briar and his three foster-sisters, Daja, Sandry, and Tris, had come to live at Winding Circle, they had had the ability to mind-speak within certain distances of each other through their magics that Sandry had woven together during an earthquake. While the immediate reaction of their teachers was to have Sandry weave a map that would completely separate their magics once again, the four children had chosen instead to remain connected. So Sandry then created a map that helped each one of them to regain control over their own magic but still retain some influence of the others' power. Reaching into his magical self now, Briar searched for the psychic vines that connected him to each of the girls. The thickest vine felt like a hot forge in his mind, meaning that Daja was the closest of the three.  
  
*Hey, Trader,* he said along the fire-vine, using his nickname for her. Immediately a surge of joy and excitement rushed toward him through the vine as Daja registered who was talking to her.  
  
*Hello, Thief-boy,* she acknowledged, with a hint of a snicker in the magical voice. *The rest of the world got sick of you, huh?*  
  
Briar smiled to himself over the tease. *No, I got sick of the rest of the world. Say, can you tell Lark to set the table for two more?*  
  
Something that felt suspiciously like a squeal of delight hit him from Daja's end of the vine. *Sure thing,* was the calm reply. Then there was a slight pause. *We all missed you, Briar.* She cut the connection.  
  
Briar was shocked after that conversation to realize that Daja wasn't the only one feeling giddy. He could hardly wait to get back to Discipline, the cottage at Winding Circle where he and the girls had lived together with their teachers: Rosethorn and Lark were the Earth Dedicates that Briar had come to think of as his foster-parents, though Rosethorn was more like an aunt to him. Too long had passed since he'd seen any of his "family" other than Rosethorn. Looking over at that particular person, he knew that just now, she was thinking the exact same thing.  
  
"Come on, Rosethorn. What do ya say we make it back before we're expected?" he suggested, not really thinking she'd agree.  
  
Raising her eyebrow at him, she grinned wickedly. "Why not?"  
  
Surprised by this, as she would normally have protested such a waste of energy, Briar was too slow to understand the evil glint in his teacher's eyes. Before he knew it, Rosethorn was pushing her horse into a canter down the dirt trail. Kicking his ride and struggling to catch up to her head-start, Briar had to admire Rosethorn's ability to keep her steed on the narrow path where it would crush no plants. Pretty soon she was too far ahead for him to see the faster horse's hooves racing away. All he saw was dust. And somewhere a few miles ahead he felt thousands of plants sprout buds and shoot into the sunlight out of joy and welcome.  
  
The plant-mages were finally back home.  



	2. Changing Winds

_I want to thank everybody so much for the reviews. I'm so glad you guys like it so far. I hope to continue updating regularly, however I need to get my hands on one of the books in the second quartet to look up a few names that I've forgotten. Or if somebody knows them, I need the name of Pasco's dance teacher and the name of Lark's new student at the end of Magic Steps. And no, LizDarcy and Sandry16, I won't tell you yet who the pairing is. However, within the next few parts you should guess it. I want to thank everybody AGAIN for the reviews! Hope you like the next part._  
  
  
  
  
  
Part 2 - Changing Winds  
  
  
Tris opened the wooden door, feeling exhilarated after her session on the northern wall. No matter how many times she let her inner self free to fly with the winds, she would never get tired of it. Sometimes the burden of her body simply seemed too much, and she needed to get away. That was why she'd originally decided to lose her excess weight two years ago. Well, that and Kethlun.  
  
But something about the winds flowing over Winding Circle today gave her this sense of excitement and danger. They whipped around, playfully tumbling with one another, inviting her to come along with them. It was with great regret that she had returned to her body after several miles of travel with them. Yet, upon reentering herself, Tris had discovered that the hyper, joyous feeling still remained. It hadn't just been coming from the northern winds, but also from somewhere inside herself. From a part of her that seemed to be stretched toward the South.  
  
Stepping inside Discipline cottage, Tris quietly closed the door and passed the table set for dinner without a thought. Lark was probably in her workroom to catch up on some spring mending; and Daja would likely be in her own room working on some task that Frostpine had given her in their afternoon lessons. As for Lark's new student, Tris never saw much of him accept for at meals. He seemed inclined to stay to himself as much as possible. That thought made her smirk, for it reminded her of herself seven years ago, when she had struggled in vain to reject a young noble's offers of friendship. Little had she known then that Sandry would pursue a friendship until the end of time; but Tris knew that she owed a lot in her life to her friend, and what better way to try and pay some of it back than to do the same thing for another?  
  
Tris pushed her long copper curls over her shoulders and stepped toward the room that she had grown up thinking of as Sandry's. Something caught her eye, however, making her stop and slowly turn her head back to the table. It was set for six diners, not the normal four that it had been ever since she'd returned a month ago. Tris instinctively faced the south side of the cottage, reaching out with magic to the winds headed in that direction. Who's coming? she asked them silently.  
  
Their reply was the smell of green, growing things. The blooming of blossoms in the spring. The cheers of plants as the sun is freed from the clouds.  
  
"Briar... Rosethorn," Tris whispered to herself, hardly daring to believe. But those specific descriptions could only mean that her friend and teacher were coming home at last. Knowing from the winds that it would be another hour before they arrived, she began the climb up the stairs toward the ladder to the roof rather than heading toward her previous destination. She needed time to herself to collect her thoughts.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
The tall, sturdy man glanced over at the young girl sitting by his side. She had spent a lot of time that spring in the sun, going from place to place and tending to many of his affairs. He suspected that it was her way of escaping the reality that he was dying. If she kept herself busy, how could she think about it? He was sure that's what she was subconsciously telling herself, although she'd never admit it, for to admit that would be the same as admitting his weakening condition.  
  
Returning his eyes and pretended attention to the noble in front of him, Duke Vedris IV wondered if his great niece truly wanted this responsibility. As the ruler of Emelan, it was his right to decide his successor, and practically everyone at the Citadel knew he would rather choose Sandry than his son. Not to mention, everyone would support his decision to name her the next ruler, as well.   
  
"Sir, his Grace regrets your present dilemma with the servants of your house. However, as they are your own responsibility, it is your duty to deal with this problem," Lady Sandrilene fa Toren announced to the complaining man before them. "I would also like to remind you," she added, with a note of cold warning, "that the Duke's law of fair treatment and adequate payment to servants is to be observed and followed by all. Please keep this in mind as you decide how to best regain order in your house."  
  
The noble looked at Lady Sandrilene with obvious contempt, though wisely kept his temper in check as he spoke. "My Lady, I ask only for his Grace's aid in this matter and do not wish to punish my servants for their insubordination--"  
  
"Thank you," Sandry cut in icily. "His Grace has heard your plea. You may leave, now."  
  
Seething, the noble inclined his head to just the degree due to the Duke's great niece, and not a measure more. As soon as the angry man had left the room, Duke Vedris motioned for his own servants to follow him, as well. He turned again to Sandry.  
  
"My Dear, you almost lost your temper."  
  
"Forgive me, Uncle. Sir Lastius is known in the market for his cruel treatment of servants and those of lower status. I used my knowledge of this in my judgment of who was at fault for the disorder of his house," Sandry replied, slowly relaxing and releasing some of her anger now that it's target was gone.  
  
Duke Vedris thought about this for a moment, marveling at his niece. She knew and conversed with the common people of Summersea better than he ever had. If she was appointed the ruler of Emelan, he knew that she would be good for all of its people.  
  
"I think you would make life better for those in the city, given the chance," he finally said, lightly.  
  
Sandry's sharp blue eyes turned to his, so as to not leave him wondering if she'd understood his meaning. Fear and anger flashed through those eyes. "I will continue to help you, Uncle," was her only reply.  
  
Duke Vedris sighed. He would let the subject drop if she was unwilling to talk about it. There was still time to discuss it later. Not much, but some. "What are your plans for tomorrow?"  
  
"I will be going to watch Pasco's dance lessons in the morning. After that, I plan on a ride through the city. Unless, of course, if you need me," Sandry answered, grateful for the change of topic.  
  



	3. Discipline

_I again want to thank people for their reviews. The Dreaded Rainbow Man, thank you for answering my questions about those two names. Also to the comment about Evvy, yes I know she was Briar's student in Street Magic, however, at the end of the book they talked about taking her back to her homeland [Yanjing, was it?] to live there. I didn't think it right to start of the story with all the students included since this IS about the quartet. However, I might bring all of them into the story later. Thanks again to everybody for the reviews, and hope you enjoy this part, as well._  
  
  
  
  
  
Part 3 - Discipline  
  
  
Daja stepped outside of her room and quietly closed her door after completing her afternoon devotions and finishing with one of the necklaces she'd been repairing. Upon hearing the hard knock on the front door, she picked up a jog down the stairs. Lark was most likely busy in her workroom and Comas would never dream of answering the door. She had thought she'd heard Tris passing her room earlier on her way up to the roof, though she couldn't be sure. Even if she was up there, however, Tris'd never hear the knock if she wasn't specifically listening for it.  
  
Easily releasing the latch and swinging the door with familiarity, Daja began a regular greeting, "Good evening--" then stopped. A young man with wavy black hair stood outside the door. He wore well-traveled clothes and a devil's grin. He was almost a stranger, but the mischievous jade eyes were just as she'd remembered. "Since when do you knock?"  
  
Briar smirked at the welcome and grabbed Daja into a tight hug. She'd always been tall for a girl, but he was shocked now to see that she was in fact an inch or so taller than his five-foot, nine-inches. While she'd grown in height, some things hadn't changed: her ebony hair was tightly coiled into braids ending with scarlet beads that now reached her shoulders, her rich chocolate skin was warm with the heat of fire, and her hands were calloused like those of a hard worker. Red arm bands to match her beads were still wrapped around each arm as a symbol of mourning and remembrance.  
  
"Thought I should at least try to make a good impression," he joked as they both pulled back from the embrace.  
  
Daja laughed. "Oh right. It may have been a few years, but nobody here has forgotten you. At this point, we've all got our impressions, and none of them good." Clapping her longtime friend on the back, Daja led him over to the table.  
  
They both sat down, Briar feeling a bit out of place. Daja seemed like the same girl he had grown up with, but something under the surface said that she was different. And what of Sandry, and Tris? Would they be different? And how much? As older teenagers, it would only be normal for all of them to have matured since the last time he'd been at Discipline.  
  
"So, where's Rosethorn?" Daja wondered, trying to cover the odd silence. Apparently Briar wasn't the only one feeling awkward.  
  
"Out back in her garden. It's all she's talked about since we began the final trip home. I know she's missed Lark too, but she's overwhelmed with the joy of being home and I think it's easier for her to cry in front of her plants than another person. When's she's got herself under control, she'll come inside," he replied. It was common knowledge among the occupants of Discipline how much Lark and Rosethorn loved each other as sisters, just as it was common knowledge how much Rosethorn hated to show her true feelings. "And how about Tris, Sandry, and Lark?"  
  
"Oh, Lark's in her workroom. She spends most of her time there when she's not working with Comas."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Comas. Lark's new student. He's a thread-mage, though he hasn't nearly the potential as Sandry does," Daja explained. "Didn't Sandry ever write to you about him?"  
  
"No... I never got any letters. From anyone. I guess because Rosethorn and I were traveling so much that the letters just never made it to us. So if Lark's teaching Comas now, what about Sandry?" Briar wondered.  
  
"Three years ago she officially moved in with her uncle, his Grace, not too long after you left. He had a heart attack, and has since had two more. She's staying there to help him manage things now that his heart is too weak for much activity or stress. Besides, Lark has always said she can teach Sandry no more. Comas stays in Sandry's old room now, next to Lark's workroom." Daja said all this was the air of great sadness. Briar wondered how often Sandry ever visited Discipline anymore. Glancing over at the downstairs bedroom across from his own, he couldn't imagine it being inhabited by anyone other than the stubborn little noble he'd come to think of as a normal person.  
  
Well, that explained about two of the people he'd asked about. "And Tris?"  
  
"I think she's on the roof," was all Daja said.  
  
Looking into himself and reaching toward the magical vine that reminded him of wind and rain, Briar carefully followed it's connection, hoping not to disturb the person on the other end. When he felt warm sun and a light breeze on his face with stiff straw scratching against his back he knew that Daja had been right.  
  
Pulling back their chairs and standing from the table, Briar and Daja once again fell into each other's arm with the affection of siblings. "We really did miss you," she breathed against his hair. "Go say hi to her," she instructed. They ended the moment when Daja ungracefully shoved Briar toward the staircase. He grinned back at her one last time before beginning his ascent to the roof. Now, more than ever, he was glad he was home.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
She heard the creak of the ladder as someone made the last couple of steps onto the roof. The winds whispered to her of the unrest among the dead straw laid down on the roof. It didn't matter; she knew who it was anyway.  
  
"Took your own sweet time in coming back," she scolded, trying hopelessly to keep her eyes from tearing.  
  
"Don't tell me you missed me, too," he said with mock concern.  
  
A watery smile grew on her face. "Of course not."  
  
Crawling over to where Tris was laying, staring up at the growing clouds, Briar settled himself down into a comfortable position next to her. "Changed much, Coppercurls?"  
  
It was an absurd question. Anyone who had seen her just a few years ago could tell that she'd become considerably taller, finally let her hair grow out a few inches below her shoulders, and lost over thirty pounds. Tris was grateful for the light conversation, though. Even after years of separation, Briar understood her better than most people ever had. Her hard exterior covered a vulnerable heart and feelings she was desperately struggling to keep under control. Perhaps it was his close relationship with Rosethorn that allowed him to comprehend people like that, or maybe it was his years growing up on the streets of Hajra, Sotat. Whatever it was, it brought the two of them closer together than blood siblings. They were so close in fact, that neither felt the need to get reacquainted with one another. There was nothing that needed to be said.  
  
Briar and Tris continued to gaze at the rolling clouds overhead in companionable silence, letting the cooling temperature and peace of the day wash over them.  



	4. Unexpected

_I can't thank you guys enough for the reviews and kind words. I still stick with my theory that Briar and Rosethorn took Evvy back to Yanjing, though that doesn't mean she went back to her parents. But enough about that, and onto the story. ^_^  
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Part 4 - Unexpected  
  
  
Sandry clapped enthusiastically as Pasco danced around her in the practice room. Her laughter echoed off the walls, harmonizing with the softly played music from the small band in a far corner. The younger man grabbed her hands, forcing her to join in the dance, of which she knew none of the steps. After allowing him to whirl her around a few times, Sandry plead exhaustion so that Pasco would release her from his grip.  
  
"Fine, milady, have it your way," he chuckled at her, seemingly unwinded himself.  
  
"Do not laugh at me, Pasco Acalon," she ordered with mock authority, ruining any effect she might have had with a burst of giggles.  
  
"And why is that?" he wondered.  
  
"I'll remind you that my uncle is your sovereign!" she threatened, unable to sound serious.  
  
"Ah, but to me you are nothing but a beautiful flower, begging for the breeze to come and twirl you in its arms," he flirted shamelessly as he danced circles around her.  
  
"You're a breeze?" Sandry roared with fits of laughter, amused to no end with Pasco's sad poetry. "Please, stay with dancing, for it is the only art form I fear you will ever be good at."  
  
He stopped in mid-twirl, faking a look of indignation. Setting both feet gracefully back on the wooden floor, his face settled into an easy smile. "Then I dance to please. Is it time for midday yet?"  
  
Sandry didn't really know what time it was, but her stomach was telling her it was ready for a meal. Coincidentally, the thick doors that led into the hallway opened just then to admit Mistress Yazmin and Duke Vedris. As they were by no means in a _secret_ relationship, Yazmin was comfortably resting her right hand on his Grace's left arm.  
  
"Enough showing off your new dance, boy. It is time that we all retire for the noon meal," Yazmin commanded, added a dazzling smile to soften the harshness of her voice. If Sandry hadn't been sternly watching her uncle just then, she might have noticed the look of concern that Yazmin had cast toward that same man. As it was, Duke Vedris was very skilled in hiding his notice of anything wrong in the situation and at diverting his niece's attention before she caught wind of Yazmin's reason for distress.  
  
"My Dear, will you and Pasco please go on ahead and dine out by yourselves this afternoon? Mistress Yazmin and myself would like to return to the Citadel now," Duke Vedris stated, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary.  
  
"Why of course, Uncle," Sandry inclined her head, never one to give up a chance to make her uncle go home and rest. Especially recently, she'd rather see him settled in the Citadel than out and about in the streets. Kissing her uncle's cheek good-bye, Sandry took Pasco's offered arm, and the two of them stepped out into the hallway.  
  
Yazmin was still staring at Vedris. "You need to tell her. You can't act like nothing's wrong."  
  
"She knows that my condition is deteriorating. She just needs time to admit it to herself."  
  
* * * * * *  
  
The Summersea market blazed with color and riches, the sound of laughter and bargaining all around. Briar trekked down the well-worn dirt streets with a purposeful step, taking slight notice of anything in the stalls he passed. He was always interested in browsing different goods, especially the new magical products that seemed to appear on the market every few days, but today he had a specific destination.  
  
After hearing Daja's tale last night about what had happened since he'd left, he wondered how altered Sandry would be from the girl he remembered. Throughout their four years living together, he'd constantly been suspicious, thinking that one day he'd see her as an upper class citizen out of his reach. But it had never happened; she'd always stayed the same caring, friendly housemate. Would her few years with the Duke, actually living as a noble, have finally transformed her into Lady Sandrilene fa Toren?  
  
Briar felt pangs of uncertainty and anxiety. He didn't think he'd be able to bear it if Sandry had become jaded by the duties and attentions given to a duchess. He couldn't explain why this worry seemed so much worse than his previous concerns that Daja and Tris might have changed, but it did.  
  
He turned around the corner of a large building resembling a warehouse, though it's sign declared it to be a dance school, and continued on towards the Duke's Citadel. Briar noticed that some shops and stalls were closing for the midday meal, and he sincerely hoped that he would be invited to share a meal at the Citadel. Of course, what if they didn't want him to stay there?  
  
As much as he hated it, Briar couldn't get rid of his doubts about what kind of welcome he'd receive from Sandry. Better to be safe than sorry, though, so he turned his path toward a small restaurant along the path. If he was, in fact, invited to have a meal with Sandry, well then, eating twice was all right.  
  
Waiting for a server to show him a table, Briar let his thoughts go and tuned into the conversations around him. Maybe it wasn't considered respectable to eavesdrop, but what could he say? Old habits die hard.  
  
He heard business talk, comments on the wonderful spring they seemed to be having, and hopes of a good year to come in marketing. None of it exactly interested him, but that didn't matter. Then he heard a voice that caught his attention.  
  
"Are you ever going to consider using your magic as a harrier-mage?" asked a young woman in the accent of nobility.  
  
"I don't know. I know my family'd love me to, but it's not what I want. I like performing too much. You turn something you love into work and it spoils it, somehow," came the male reply. That second voice sounded like adolescent educated middle class.  
  
"Well, that's true and it isn't. I suppose that if you were to dance so much that you got tired of it, that might turn it into work. However, if you loved dancing enough that you never tired of it, it wouldn't be spoiled. Do you ever get tired of dancing?" wondered the woman.  
  
"No," there was a pause of thought and then, "Do you ever get tired of weaving?"  
  
"Not at all. I love it too much. When I can communicate with the threads just right, everything flows. And using that magic as a defense or even as an attack only makes it more special to me. It helps me to appreciate what I have."  
  
Briar knew he'd recognized that voice. How many young noble women could there be with thread magic? Of course, her voice was slightly deeper than it had been as a child, but he was sure now that it was Sandry's.  
  
Stepping around the wall divider without waiting for a server to notice him, Briar inched over into the direction that those voices were coming from. The two diners were seated at a small round table with only drinks set in front of them. Sandry's back was to him, giving him a full view of her long, light chestnut hair. Its soft curls and waves reached her waist, with blonde sun-streaks weaving throughout the strands. Glancing now at her dinner partner, Briar saw a medium-skinned boy with dark hair like his own. To call him a boy was probably unfair, as he looked to be only a few years younger than Sandry and himself. However, Briar was right to have assumed the boy to be middle class: he wore common clothing of good quality with no jewelry of any kind.  
  
Not stopping to wonder if it would be rude to interrupt their conversation, Briar quietly walked closer to their table until he was just far enough away that the boy wouldn't stop talking to acknowledge him. When a lull in conversation hit, he knew it was the perfect chance to announce himself.  
  
*Duchess,* he said along his thread-vine, though he wasn't quite sure why he felt the need to address her privately.  
  
Sandry's back went rigid, and Briar knew from the waves of shock rolling toward him along the magical connection that she had not expected him.  
  
"Briar?" *Briar?* she called simultaneously, surprise and wonder in both her physical and magical voices. Slowly, Sandry pivoted in her chair, stopping only when she had a full view of him standing there.  
  
  
  
  
_Larzdinn and Sandry16, sorry to disappoint since I know you wanted B/T. However, all throughout both quartets, I've always though of Briar and Tris more as close siblings. And maybe it was just my imagination, but there were some times when the way that Briar and Sandry interacted suggested that they might like each other. It's always been my dream for Tamora to get them together, so I'm kind of writing this story to fulfill that dream since it looks like Tamora probably won't. Anyway, hope you all liked this chapter and the one to come, even if the pairing isn't to your liking. I'll try to get the next chapter up soon.  
_


	5. Private Musings

_ARG! I'm gonna shoot this site! I've been trying for the past day to upload the next chapter, and it keeps telling me the document manager isn't working so I can't! Anyway, at least i finally managed it now. I want to tell you all that you are way too kind. I'm so giddy with delight over how nice your reviews are. Honestly, I never planned to update the story quite so often, but I'm feeling like I must now. Sorry again to those who were hoping for a B/T pairing, but as I explained, it just didn't work for me. And while this story IS a romance, it also has a separate plot as well, so I'm going to be trying to twine the two together now. Sorry to those who love all fluff, because I want this story to also have some seriousness to it. Extra note: babooshka, I have to ask you to update YOUR story soon, as well. You left it on a huge cliffhanger! Anyway, back to this story...  
  
  
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Part 5 - Private Musings  
  
  
She wasn't sure how long she'd been holding her breath. Before her stood the most handsome young man she'd ever seen. Raven's wing black hair that brushed his ear lobes swept back to frame a tan face. His lean, strong body was taller than she remembered, but then, that was to be expected. He was clad in soft black leather boots and loose tan trousers with hints of jade and emerald threads sparkling throughout. To top it off was a flaxen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a hint of jade embroidery along the neckline. Remembering the care she'd put into that shirt, Sandry knew there would be matching designs along the cuffs, although they were impossible to see just now. And just as she'd planned when she'd woven her magic into the outfit, the clothing had grown with the man.  
  
Was this really Briar?  
  
The unsure manner and hands protectively shoved into the pants pockets suggested otherwise. However, the depth in those wild eyes told her it was him.  
  
Leaping out of her chair with a suppressed squeal, Sandry let loose her abandon and flung her arms around his shoulders in greeting. She felt his arms wrap around her waist in response as she squeezed him with joy.  
  
"I wondered if you were ever going to return," she informed him teasingly, trying to hide her uncollected state.  
  
Briar laughed into her hair, also trying to disguise what he was feeling. Uncomfortably enough, he was having unbrotherly thoughts about this girl that was supposed to be his foster-sister. It didn't help that she was presently pressing herself against him in what she no doubt considered a sister's embrace. By the Thief Gods, he'd never seen a woman so gorgeous as she'd appeared to him a moment ago: facing him in her chair, soft hair falling about her shoulders and cheeks flushed with excitement. Her peach riding gown with cream trim wasn't extravagantly fashioned, but he'd definitely noticed how perfectly it fit her. In sharp contrast to everything else were her piercing eyes, the vivid blue of the morning sky.  
  
Pulling away to have another look at her, Briar gazed into those eyes now. "I tried to come back sooner. I ended up having to drag Rosethorn home," he joked with a grin.  
  
The very image he'd just painted for her produced an eruption of mirth from Sandry. Anybody hauling Rosethorn around was a sight she'd pay good money to see. Moving back toward the table, Sandry indicated that Briar should pull up a chair alongside her own.  
  
After the two had settled down, Sandry returned her attention to Pasco. "Pasco, this is Briar Moss. Briar this is Pasco Acalon," she introduced the two to each other. After they kindly shook hands, Pasco with a small look of awe on his face, she continued. "Pasco was a student of mine a couple of years back. He has ambient magic, like us, only his is dance magic. There is nothing else I can teach him, since I know little about dance magic, but we still visit," Sandry explained to Briar. He nodded his understanding.  
  
"Pasco, Briar was one of my housemates at Discipline cottage in Winding Circle. He was part of what people like to call the--"  
  
"Mage Quartet. You two and Trisana Chandler and Daja Kisubo, right?" Pasco cut in. He'd heard some stories about Sandry's other friends from her, but he'd never actually met any of them. Other stories he'd heard from other people about the quartet were amazing, though he knew Sandry didn't like to mention them, so he never had, either. Maybe it was foolish for him to be nervous about meeting another member of the Mage Quartet when he'd been close friends with Sandry for a couple years now, but he was nonetheless.  
  
Sandry nodded, beaming. Then directing that smile toward Briar, she finished her explanation. "Briar has been gone for the last three years. But now he's back." That last line suggested that he go on to describe what he'd been doing those three years.  
  
"Well, mostly Rosethorn and I just wandered South to any place that needed our help. Of course, there was a terrible drought in many places, especially in the Sotat city of Chammur. We spent quite some time there, helping out the farmers; and I also found myself a student," he smirked at the irony. "Her name is Evumeimei -- Evvy -- and she has stone magic. As we began traveling more to the East, we visited Yanjing for some time. Yanjing was Evvy's original home, so she decided to stay there when we left. I guess her magic was in quite a large demand, so Rosethorn and I were leaving her there with a good place to stay and a promising future. Most of the past three years I've spent traveling rather than in one place, though."  
  
Sandry felt a twinge of jealousy upon hearing that last statement. She'd spent the last three years tending to her uncle, never once leaving Emelan. What she wouldn't give for the chance to see more of the world! Yet, at the same time, Vedris meant too much to her. Healers had kept telling him that he'd never survive a third heart attack, though he'd miraculously done just that a few months ago. Now his heart was so weak that chances were he wouldn't live long enough to worry about another heart attack. Blinking back tears before they had a chance to properly wet her eyes, Sandry did her best to mask her thoughts. She wanted this to be a happy reunion.  
  
Briar noticed the pained look that flashed across Sandry's face, but felt it would be best not to ask her about it. Not only did he not want to discuss it in front of this Pasco, but he could tell that she was trying to hide her feelings.  
  
Oddly enough, Pasco also seemed to sense that Briar and Sandry should be alone, because he suddenly jumped up from his chair. "Sorry, milady, Briar," he nodded respectively to each, "but I really should be going. Dance magic or no, Mama still wants all of us in the courtyard for sword practice two bells after the midday." He bowed again to Sandry, waved a final farewell and trotted out of the restaurant and down the street. Sandry's laughter trailed after him, causing Briar to give her a questioning look.  
  
"What's so amusing?"  
  
"His family. Practically every relative he has is a harrier for my uncle. His mother sort of acts as "clan superior," and nobody dares cross her. All the younger members of the family have regular weapon practices, including Pasco, even if he has no plans of following the family tradition. I guess I just find his reverence -- bordering on fear -- of his mother funny," Sandry explained.  
  
Briar also found amusement in this, but then added, "Are you telling me that you don't try to rule the Citadel the same way?"  
  
She laughed again, although a note of sorrow had entered the sound this time. "I guess I do, especially Uncle." There was a long, awkward silence. Briar knew where Sandry's thoughts were heading, but decided that if she wanted to talk about it, she would have to initiate the subject. When she did actually begin to speak again, he was rather shocked; as good as she was at listening to other people's problems, Sandry rarely ever voiced her own.  
  
"He hasn't long left, you know. The healers never expected him to make it this long. Sometimes I think I'm the only reason he's still holding on." At this point, Sandry gave way to her weeping. Briar again pulled her into his arms, lightly brushing her hair for comfort. There was nothing he could say that wouldn't be stupid. "I just.. I wish he would let go if that's what he truly wants. I want him to be happy, but lately all he has is his pain. There's nothing I can do for him but assure him that I'll take good care of the land until his son takes up the throne. What's worse, though, is that lately he's been hinting that he might choose _me_ as his successor."  
  
It was all Briar could do to hide his shock at this admission. Sandry, ruler of Emelan?  
  
"I know it's assumed that his position should go to the next person in line. But that retched son and daughter-in-law of his only want the power. They'll do nothing for Emelan. Uncle knows he's legally allowed to appoint anyone he wants as the next ruler, but nobody outside of the Citadel will expect it. What if there's a rebellion when people hear that a teenage girl, who's not even the true heir, is their sovereign? I don't think I could deal with that, sending out officials to guard me against my own people? Hurting those I should be protecting just to ensure my own safety? Oh, Briar!"  
  
He simply continued to hold her, wishing there was something -- anything -- he could do to ease her frustration and torment. He felt her slight body trembling in emotional agony as she soaked his shoulder. Her crying was now reduced to silent sobs, but he wasn't fooled into believing she felt any less miserable.  
  
Slowly getting herself under control, Sandry lifted her head from Briar's shoulder and gave him her best thank-you smile. It was a pathetic attempt, but the best she could muster just then. "This isn't exactly the welcome home I would have liked to have given you, but I don't suppose we can change that now."  
  
"No need to apologize," he assured her. Standing up and pushing in his chair, Briar offered his arm to her.  
  
Happy to move on from the depressing conversation, Sandry hastily wiped beneath both eyes and placed her hand upon the outstretched arm, once again noticing his size and strength as she used it to help herself stand up. "Say, how did you ever know I was here, anyway?" she wondered.  
  
"Oh," he smirked, "really I was just looking for a good place to have my midday meal."  
  
"And so you haven't eaten yet?"  
  
He looked down at his stomach in mock concern. "I'm afraid not."  
  
"How about we get something to eat at the Citadel then?" she suggested with a giggle, expressing without the actual words how grateful she was for his friendship and listening. 


	6. Strange Occurrences

_We got a new keyboard! WOOHOO! I was so happy about it. Anyway, here is the FULL version of Part 6. I started school today, so I can't be sure when the next part will be posted, but hopefully soon. Thank you guys AGAIN for the reviews and encouragement. See ya again soon!  
  
  
_  
  
Part 6 - Strange Occurrences  
  
  
Daja tugged slightly on the collar of her soft cotton shirt and sent a worried look over in Tris's direction. The shorter girl kept bumping into things and losing her balance at the least likely of times. Like tripping backwards for no apparent reason while standing still and drying a plate. Tris may not have been born into the elegance and grace of the noble classes, but she was not usually so clumsy.  
  
"What's wrong, Tris?"  
  
"Nothing," came the mumbled reply. Tris averted her eyes from Daja and continued drying the dishes and carefully stacking them in the cupboard. Daja went on with her sweeping of the floor, deciding that she wasn't going to pull the information out of Tris if the girl was unwilling to give it. Besides, it was way too hot in the cottage to bother with Tris's attitude today.  
  
Suddenly a loud crash sounded from the area of the sink as a glass dropped to the floor. Daja whirled around just in time to witness Tris's feet being swept out from under her. She tumbled to her backside as though a strong wind had knocked her right over. Rushing over to offer a hand to her now cranky-looking friend, Daja realized something wasn't right on that side of the room. Something she couldn't put her finger on. Dismissing that thought for the moment, she hauled Tris once again to her feet and stepped back. Tris hated accepting anyone's help; and after giving it to her, the best thing one could do was get away.  
  
Just then Lark burst through her workroom door and into the main room. A frightened body rambled on in behind her, Comas not sure he wanted to be around the two girls. Daja generally found it amusing that the boy feared herself and her friends, but right then she had the urge to snap at him for acting as if this was a crisis. And that thought alone gave her pause. Why was she becoming just as cross as Tris?  
  
And then she wished that whatever draft that had hit Tris would come to her; she could sure use a cool breeze in her face at the moment. That thought caused her to glance at the window in annoyance for not offering her a relief from the afternoon heat. But it wasn't open. How could a stray wind have possibly pushed Tris down if the window was closed?  
  
Lark, unaware of these thoughts, kindly steered Tris toward a seat at the table. "Are you all right, Tris? What happened?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"But what happened?" Lark persisted.  
  
"Nothing happened. I fell, ok?" the redhead practically shouted. Everyone fell into shocked silence after that, even Tris. She may have a quick temper, but her anger usually stayed to low volumes. It took a lot to upset Tris enough to cause her to yell.  
  
And strangely, Daja felt herself becoming angrier by the moment because Lark was making such a big deal out of this.  
  
"Let me take your temperature, dear," Lark begged, moving closer to Tris in order to place the back of her hand against the girl's forehead. "Nothing," she whispered.  
  
"Of course it's nothing. She said she's fine!" Daja argued, feeling her temper run away with her. Once again there was silence, this time with Lark rushing over to feel Daja's forehead. As though she'd been touched by hot coals, Lark snatched her hand back faster than eyes could follow. Her own dark eyes were round saucers.  
  
"What is it?" Daja wondered, seeming to have calmed down considerably now.  
  
"Daja, you're temperature's well over regulation. I'll have to get you to the infirmary." Passing a glance toward Tris, she continued, "Tris, why don't you come with us? Comas, stay and watch Discipline until we return."  
  
Tris and Daja exchanged bewildered looks. Neither felt like anything was wrong, but Lark would probably know best anyway. Setting her broom against the wall, Daja joined Tris and they followed Lark out through the front door.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
Sandry looked down in dismay at the fourth cloth she'd torn in the last five minutes. She didn't know what was wrong with her; every time she went to wipe her fingers on a cloth, it tore to pieces before she barely touched it. It was even starting to make her angry; something that didn't happen to Sandry often. Sending a surreptitious glance at Briar, she was relieved to see that he was happily eating another sandwich and hadn't noticed her folly. The last thing she needed was for Briar to witness her unladylike behavior. Glaring back down at the torn cloth, she just assumed it was due to a servant's poor weaving. Sweeping away her most recent mess while trying not to destroy it any more, Sandry returned her attention to Briar and their midday meal.  
  
Briar was flinging his left arm around as though there were something attached to it, the red flush of temper rising up his neck. Looking for a second back at Sandry and realizing she'd seen his actions, he clumsily tried to pull something off his elbow. Leaning in to get a better look at it, Sandry realized it was a crawling piece of lettuce, struggling for all it was worth to be free of Briar's grasp and climb further up his arm. Her previous anger faded, and she had to stifle a giggle at the sight of her friend wrestling a vegetable.  
  
Briar gave a sigh of defeat and gave up the fight. Accusatory eyes shot at Sandry for her amusement. "You think this is pretty funny, do you?"  
  
She laughed out right in his face. "Can't you command it down, or something?"  
  
Briar shrugged. "Normally I would, but this little one isn't listening to me," he answered grumpily.  
  
"Here, let me, then," Sandry offered. Scooting around the sofa closer to him, she slowly leaned across Briar's front to reach the offending lettuce leaf that was now perched on his shoulder.  
  
Briar had to hold his breath with Sandry in such close proximity, poised gracefully in front of him. He didn't even want to think what smelling her unique feminine fragrance this close up would do to his senses. As it was, he was forced to clench his hands into fists to keep them from touching her. Pretending not to notice their position, Briar instead turned his head to watch her elegant hand reach for the stray piece of lettuce.  
  
Sandry's fingers made contact with the fabric of Briar's shirt just as a large rip spread down the sleeve. Quickly jerking her hand back in surprise at what she'd done, Sandry lost her balance only to pitch herself onto the floor. At the same time, the rogue lettuce leaf slipped into Briar's shirt through the rip. The shock of the wet, cold vegetable sliming around on his warm skin made Briar squirm uncontrollably, until he ended up following Sandry off the sofa.  
  
Landing unceremoniously on top of Sandry, Briar hurriedly gathered his bearings and returned to his feet. Straightening his clothing with a few quick brushes, he then leaned down to offer his hand to Sandry. With crimson cheeks and averted eyes, Sandry took Briar's hand and hauled herself off the floor.  
  
Then she gasped as she caught a glance at was once his beautiful flaxen shirt. Tears and loose threads popped out everywhere, leaving the magnificent garment in tatters, still unraveling before her eyes. Knowing that it had been her own magic and skill that had gone into the shirt, Sandry also knew that her magic alone could be the only thing that would undo it. Gaping strickenly at what her hands had done, she backed away from Briar.  
  
"Oh, Sandry it's all right," Briar consoled, mistaking the reason for her look of upset. He slowly stepped toward her, trying to calm her down, but Sandry only backed further away.  
  
"Hold still, Briar," she said, signaling for him to give her a minute to think. As he stopped, she delicately ran a fingertip down the upholstery of a nearby chair, only to watch the fabric's weave come apart as smoothly as if she had cut it with a knife. Now Briar joined in her amazement, staring slack-jawed at Sandry's hand. She looked up at him with concern gleaming in her eyes. "I didn't mean to do that."  
  
Briar felt worry twist in his stomach; what was happening to his friend? Without thinking, he grabbed her hand. "Can you leave the Citadel now? Would your Uncle care?"  
  
Sandry shot him a confused look. "No, I'd just have to make sure a servant lets him know where I am." There was a slight pause. "Where _are_ we going, Briar?"  
  
He gave her hand a slight squeeze of reassurance. "Just to Winding Circle. Maybe Lark will understand this." 


	7. Rogue Magic

_Hello again! I want to thank everybody for the reviews I've been getting [I always do thank everyone, but you guys are so great that I have to keep doing it!], especially those of you who have reviewed multiple times such as **The Dreaded Rainbow Man**, **babooshka**, **Galadriel Greenleaf**, **LizDarcy**, **Larzdinn**, **Dragon Girl Revlis**, **jiana weasley**, and **Sandry16**. You are all so nice and encouraging for me with this story. I also want to thank **ShimmerShadowGlimmerDust** for putting me on your favorite stories list! I'm so flattered! Here now is part 7. In case anyone missed it, remember to check back on part 6, since it is now the full version. So now onto the story and, since I realized the other day that I don't have one, my disclaimer...  
  
**DISCLAIMER: Most of these characters belong to Tamora Pierce. For those that do, you know who they are, and TAMMY knows who they are, so there is no point in naming them all. The point is, I don't own them and I'm not making money off of them. The plot is mine, the writing is mine. That's it.**  
  
  
_  
  
Part 7 - Rogue Magic  
  
  
Tris looked up from her cot when she heard Briar and Sandry enter the infirmary. She couldn't catch the words, but saw that Briar was panting out information to a disconcerted Novice wearing the colors of the Water Temple. It was easy enough to tell that Briar was distressed with the way he had Sandry's hand gripped in one of his and was using the other in an animated explanation. Sandry looked just as upset as Briar, but Tris could tell that she was trying to hide it. When the confused Novice only shook her head, Briar's brow frowned with impatience and he begin scanning the room for someone else to talk to. Tris waved him over when she caught his eye. Briar started across the space between them in due haste with Sandry in tow. Tris noticed now that the noble looked uncomfortable and embarrassed, but the concern was still on her face.  
  
"Tris, thank goodness we found someone with brains. These Water Dedicates don't know anything..." Briar trailed off, taking a moment to gasp for breath, then continued. "Do you know where Lark is?"  
  
"She went into an office somewhere in the back of the infirmary to talk with some healers. Something's wrong with Daja... I think they said her temperature was close to a hundred and five degrees, and her skin temperature is even hotter." She stopped when she noticed the lines of worry deepen on each of her friends' faces. "Why are you two here?"  
  
Neither of them wanted to say anything; Briar because he wasn't exactly sure what was wrong with Sandry to begin with, and Sandry because she felt her troubles were unimportant compared to the apparent threat to Daja's life. Eventually it was Sandry that decided to speak, knowing that Tris would become angry if no one answered her.  
  
"Well, I'm not exactly sure why, but I was having trouble with my magic... I mean, it's really not bad. Nobody got hurt or anything. We just thought Lark might be able to help." Sandry broke off there, feeling more stupid with each word. What did a little loss of control over her magic mean when Daja was sick?  
  
But Tris shot a sharp look at her friend when she heard those words. "Trouble with your magic? How so?"  
  
Sandry blushed. "It just did some things I didn't ask it to do... destroyed some clothes, nothing too bad."  
  
That's when Tris noticed the ruins of a shirt that Briar was wearing. Her first thought was that yes, Sandry was obviously having trouble with her magic. Tris's second thought was what had Sandry and Briar been doing to leave his shirt in pieces. However, she didn't want to voice the latter and decided acknowledging the first was pointless. Instead, Tris considered how Sandry had described what had happened: _it just did some things I didn't ask it to do_.  
  
Something about that reminded Tris of her own little episode earlier at Discipline. She'd been drying the dishes when perspiration had started to build up on her forehead. It was a fairly cool day, so she had thought it strange that she should be sweating, but simply brushed the annoyance away. Then small air currents had began flitting about her. At first, Tris had been relieved, thinking that the moving air would help with the sweat; however, as if to spite her, the perspiration had persisted even as the drafts had grown stronger. So strong in fact, that they had pushed her around and threw her off balance until she had finally been forced off her feet and onto the floor. By that point, Tris had realized that she wasn't sweating from heat, but from exhaustion the same way she did when she used too much of her magic. And the only way those air currents could have formed inside the closed cottage was by her own magic. It was as if her magic had stirred up the air even though she _didn't ask it to_.  
  
Of course, she hadn't told any of that to Lark or Daja. Tris would rather die than admit that she couldn't keep a hold of her magic after seven years of teaching with the famous Niklaren Goldeye. She wasn't the dangerous, inexperienced little girl anymore.  
  
Tris's thoughts returned to the present to find that Sandry was still blushing. Probably still about Briar's shirt.  
  
"Are you still having problems with your magic?" Tris wondered.  
  
A thoughtful look came over Sandry's face. "I don't know. I've been careful not to touch any fabric since I first realized something was wrong." Looking around, she spotted a spare bandage on a desk by a vacated cot and walked over to it. With a deep sigh, Sandry leaned down and lightly tapped the bandage, steeling herself for the rip she knew was coming. Only it never did. With a mixture of confusion and wonder spreading over her features, Sandry picked up the bandage and brought it back over to where Tris and Briar were. "Nothing," she admitted, showing them the perfectly whole piece of cloth.  
  
Just then a door in the back of the infirmary opened and in strode Lark and a smaller woman in the blue dedicate's habit of the Water Temple. She had platinum-blonde hair worn in a long braid down her back and large, brown eyes so dark that they were almost black. They came straight over to where the three young mages had been talking, Lark's eyes silently questioning Briar and Sandry as to why they were there and kindly welcoming them at the same time.  
  
Turning toward her companion, Lark announced, "Dedicate, though I believe you already know Trisana, these two are Briar and Sandry. They were also taught under the roof of Discipline Cottage. Briar and Sandry, this is Dedicate Coral. She is the new Head of the Water Temple." Coral smiled cheerfully and nodded her greetings, then her face underwent a complete transformation into a serious gaze.  
  
"I'm afraid your friend Daja is very ill with a fever. I have personally been seeing to her, though, and already there have been improvements. I expect that she will be well and ready to return to Discipline in a day or two."  
  
Sandry heaved a huge sigh of relief. Tris and Briar felt similar reactions, but chose to keep them hidden.  
  
Dedicate Coral continued, "My healers and I have concluded that this fever was most likely brought on by Daja's own forge-magic. Because it was linked to her magic, and her magic is linked to all of yours, I must inquire how all of you are feeling. If you've noticed anything strange at all with yourselves or your magics today."  
  
Sandry froze in shock. Was it possible that Daja's magical troubles could have caused her own? Or worse, had _her_ loss of control with her magic had an effect on Daja?  
  
Briar was wondering the exact same things at that moment, and also recalling the fight he'd had with the piece of lettuce at lunch. Had there been more to that than he'd thought?  
  
Tris's thoughts were running along the same line as both Sandry's and Briar's, only one difference. She was positive that her episode earlier had started before Daja's temperature had started to rise. That meant that in all likelihood, she had caused both Daja's fever and Sandry's problems. She wasn't going to say that much, though. She'd keep it simple...  
  
"Yes, I wasn't well earlier today, as Lark can tell you. My weather-magic got away from me and formed winds inside the cottage that pushed me down. This was at the same time as when Daja's temperature changed," Tris explained with Briar and Sandry both looking at her in surprise. Dedicate Coral looked at Lark for confirmation; Lark nodded.  
  
Then Briar cut in, "Sandry and I lost control of our magic during our noon meal today. Sandry's thread-magic started tearing and ripping any cloth that her hands came in contact with." He gestured to his shirt as evidence, causing Sandry's face to grow crimson. "I had trouble with a plant that continually disobeyed me and seemed to do exactly what I didn't want it to do, such as crawling all over me. I hadn't thought anything about the plant at the time, but we came over here right away when we realized that it was Sandry's magic that was causing things to tear."  
  
Worry creases settled around Lark's almond-shaped eyes. "Has this ever happened before?"  
  
All three shook their heads.  
  
"What about today. Did it happen more than once today?" she asked.  
  
"Not for me," Tris answered.  
  
"Or us," Sandry admitted.  
  
"And this happened with Tris and Daja after the midday meal," Lark said to Coral.  
  
"But with Sandry and Briar during their meal?" Coral said aloud in confusion.  
  
"We had our meal late, though," Sandry remembered. "I met up with Briar in the marketplace one and a half bells after the noon bell sounded, and then we went back to the Citadel to have our meal there."  
  
Lark nodded several times in understanding. "That would have had them eating around the same as when I discovered Daja's fever," she explained to Dedicate Coral.  
  
There was silence for a few moments as everybody watched the Water Dedicate. It was obvious she was contemplating what to do next. Suddenly she glanced at the fading sunlight filtering through a nearby window and shook her head regretfully. "I would like to discuss this further and examine you three. However, darkness is falling and I think you should all get some rest so that you may be here early tomorrow. Can you be here one bell after the sunrise?"  
  
Briar and Tris glanced at each other, quietly sharing their loathing of early wake-up calls. Sandry opened her mouth about ready to say she didn't think she could make it there that early from the Citadel, but then turned to her once teacher and longtime friend. "Lark, could I stay at Discipline tonight?"  
  
"Of course you can, dear. We can even stop at the aviary by the Air Temples on our way back to the cottage so that you can send your uncle a message," Lark offered.  
  
Sandry smiled her deep gratitude and then faced Dedicate Coral again. "Yes, I can come tomorrow morning one bell after sunrise."  
  
"We'll make it, as well," Briar grudgingly agreed.  
  
Dedicate Coral again smiled the same bright grin that she had greeted them with. "Wonderful. I hope that we can sort this out tomorrow. At that time, you may also visit your friend. She should not be bothered tonight, however."  
  
"Thank you for your help, Coral," Lark said. "Shall we return to Discipline, then?" she suggested to the three youths.  
  
As Lark headed toward the doorway, Sandry fell into step behind her with an expression of sorrow threatening to conquer her strong facade. Briar noted with pain how distressed she was, and longed to find a way to make her feel better. Seeing this, Tris nudged his shoulder to get his attention. He looked at her in question, only to have her nod toward Sandry and push him forward. He only stared back in confusion.  
  
Tris winked at him and jogged to catch up to her friend. Briar watched her throw an arm around Sandry in an effort to give some comfort. In reaction, Sandry leaned into Tris and placed her own arm around the taller girl. Hope -- and not just about Daja's recovery -- sparked in his heart, and Briar trotted up to Sandry's other side, taking her free hand in his own. Continuing forward, he squeezed her hand in love and support.  
  
Just as they passed through the infirmary door and began down the dirt bath toward the Air Temples, Briar felt Sandry's grip tighten on his hand. And she didn't let up until they reached their destination.  
  
  



	8. Empty Space

**_SHATTERGLASS (TCO BOOK 4) COMES OUT IN FEBRUARY!!!  
_**  
Ahem, anyway, hey people! Oh my goodness, has it been a WHILE, and now there are new readers in the reviews! I'm so happy, thanks to everyone -- new and old readers alike -- for telling me what you guys think! Please keep up the encouragement; I love it! :) I'll continue with the story now, but I want to make a last note to **Andrea Rimsky**: I'll address your review at the end of this chapter. So anyway, see you all later!  
  
**DISCLAIMER: Most of these characters belong to Tamora Pierce. For those that do, you know who they are, and TAMMY knows who they are, so there is no point in naming them all. The point is, I don't own them and I'm not making money off of them. The plot is mine, the writing is mine. That's it.**  
  
  
  
  
Part 8 - Empty Space  
  
  
Lark was the first of the four solemn figures to enter Discipline, leaving the last dying streaks of sunlight outside behind them. Having heard the door shut, Comas hurried into the main room of the cottage, looking to his teaching for answers about what was going on and plainly expecting to resume whatever lesson they had began earlier that day. With barely a cursory glance at his open mouth, Lark immediately headed to Rosethorn's workroom and meaningfully closed the door on the youths left in the room.  
  
Comas remained rooted to his spot, gaping at the shut door. Sandry sighed painfully, gently pulled away from Briar's hand, and started toward the kitchen area of the room. Opening a drawer, she produced a half of a loaf of bread; then she walked toward the icebox to retrieve some ham and cheese. Seeing her plan, Tris went to the dish cabinet and brought down enough plates and glasses for all six people that would be eating that night and began to set the table. Rummaging through the icebox, Sandry also found some of Rosethorn's potato salad to add to the sandwiches she was preparing to fix.  
  
Not really knowing what else to do, Briar retrieved the wine flask from his private packs in his room. Normally he would have saved it for a special occasion, but everybody looked like they could use something that would calm nerves and relieve stress. Upon reentering the main room with his small dinner contribution, Briar immediately noticed Comas's close proximity to Sandry. Although his friend seemed completely obvious herself, Comas was gazing at her adoringly while fumbling with the small task she had set him to. When he finally announced that he'd finished slicing the bread, Sandry gave him an encouraging pat on his arm. Something which, Briar saw, sent shivers of pleasure through the younger boy while at the same time causing rippling jealousy to course through his own body.  
  
Giving himself a slight shake to banish his thoughts, Briar strode up to Tris, who was just finishing placing the glasses at the table. Without comment, he poured some wine into each cup, recapped the flask, and laid it upon the table. Tris also refrained from comment, though they both knew that she knew he kept liquor in that flask.  
  
Just then, the door to Rosethorn's study creaked open to reveal the two older women, both with red-rimmed eyes. Rosethorn's features were stone, her attempt to hide her emotions, while Lark was openly sniffing with a tissue held to her face. With grateful nods in Sandry and Tris's direction, Rosethorn pulled out the chair at the table's head for Lark and then took her place in the chair opposite of Lark. Following her que, the four youths sat down at their own respective seats, Briar barely beating Comas to the open seat next to Sandry. Seeing this, Tris smirked at her friend, teasing him with her half-mock sympathy.  
  
After all six were seated, the dinner proceeded rather uneventfully. Conversation was of mundane matters with many large gaps of silence. For the most part, all members seemed to prefer being left to their own thoughts.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Clutching Tris's spare nightgown to herself, Sandry spanned the dark room with her eyes. Even with Daja's small shrine to the Trader Gods and her unfinished metalworks laying all over every available surface, the chamber seemed eerily empty. Because it was impractical to switch around the sleeping arrangements for one night so that Sandry could sleep in her old room, it had been decided that she would sleep in Daja's room. At the time it had seemed perfectly logical, but now that she was actually faced with the prospect of spending a night in her friend's room without her there, Sandry felt completely alone and forlorn.  
  
Delicately making her way over to the shrine in the corner, Sandry was careful not to make a sound, feeling as if it would be a desecration to something sacred. Kneeling in front of the small statues and candles, she lightly ran a single finger over the features of the gods whom Daja worshipped. She may not believe in these beings the way a trader did, but tonight she would put her faith in them. Having reached for the box of matches on the floor at the base of the shrine, Sandry struck one match's head against the floor and quickly began to light each candle around the alter. Although unsure of what the symbols stamped in the wax stood for, she was confident that none of them would bode ill for Daja.  
  
Sandry then blew out the match, set it in the small clay pot by the box of matches that she had discovered was used for their disposal, and folded her hands upon her lap. With a silent prayer to the Trader Gods and any others who would listen, she asked for Daja's health to return and a quick discovery on what had caused it to fail. Drawing a circle to her gods on her chest, Sandry regained her feet and tiptoed to her friend's bed. She hoped it would be safe to leave the wax burning all night.  
  
Sandry laid on the bed for several minutes, not bothering to crawl beneath the covers. Somehow she knew it would be no use, for she could not sleep in Daja's bed tonight. Her mind and heart were racked with unanswered questions, and staying in the room where Daja should have been sleeping only served to further unsettle her.  
  
Slowly, Sandry gingerly sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed even as her tired body protested. Sliding to the floor, she padded back to the door and quietly slipped into the upstairs hallway. When she reached Tris's door, her hand was almost to the door latch before she decided against bothering the redhead. Something told her that Tris was already in a deep sleep, and if at least one person at Discipline was able to find sleep that night, she wasn't going to wake her up. Moving on past Tris's room and down the stairs to the main room, Sandry debated with herself whether or not she should approach Lark's room. Lark was like a mother to her in so many ways, but Lark also liked to find solace within herself, and probably wouldn't appreciate Sandry's intrusion at such a time. Since in Sandry's mind Comas and Rosethorn seemed illogical options to go to, the only door left lead to Briar's room.  
  
Sandry steeled herself before actually placing her hand on Briar's door latch. Would it be decent to be alone with Briar in his room at night in nothing but a nightgown? She knew she'd done it as a child, but they'd both been so much more naive and innocent then. Not to mention, she'd never used to look at him as anything other than a brother and a friend. In the past day, Sandry had been assailed with a riot of emotions toward the young man, many of them screaming for her see her old housemate as just that: a man. At the same time, she was disgusted with herself for feeling this way about her foster brother.  
  
Besides, what would Briar think if he knew the thoughts running through her head?  
  
Swallowing her doubt and ignoring the apprehension rising in the back of her mind, Sandry pulled down on the latch and stepped into the darkness on the other side. A shiver of fear ran through her as it suddenly occurred to her that Briar could be sleeping and she might awaken him. Just before she had the chance to slip back out the door, however, a voice came from the other side of the room.  
  
"Hello?" The light sound of someone shuffling to their feet followed the quiet whisper. Sandry could just imagine him poised for an intruder's attack, knife ready in hand. In nothing but his loincloth.  
  
Her face paled with that thought even as she realized that she'd have to announce herself now. It was too late to back out unnoticed. "H-hello."  
  
"Sandry?" He sounded shocked, unsure, incredulous. But Sandry also noticed that there was a hint of pleasure in his voice, as well. She wasn't certain whether she was more disturbed by his joy at having her come into his room at night or her relief that he wanted her there.  
  
"I'm sorry. I couldn't get to sleep. It was weird... in her room. I just thought maybe you wouldn't mind..? But of course you do, I shouldn't ha-"  
  
"No, not at all. You can sleep in here if you want to," Briar cut in, fairly tripping over the words in his haste to keep her from leaving. He couldn't believe that Sandry had actually come to him at this hour, but he wasn't going to turn her away.  
  
"Is it all right if I just sleep on the floor?" she wondered.  
  
"You can't spend the night on the floor. Take the bed; I'll be fine on the floor with a blanket," he countered.  
  
"No, I couldn't-"  
  
"You want to share the bed?"  
  
The question hovered in the space between them, punctuated by silence. Briar had no idea what had possessed him to actually suggest such a thing. And yet he wouldn't take it back. Sandry, on the other hand, felt thrills run down her spine at the idea of sleeping next to Briar. He had voiced the exact thought that she had been entertaining in her mind, and she was certainly glad she hadn't been the one to bring it up.  
  
"Sure," was her quiet response, in lieu of having nothing better to say.  
  
"All right, um," Briar paused, unsure of what to say next. "Hold on for a moment." Blindly searching around the floor with his feet for the shirt he'd tossed there earlier, Briar prayed he would be able to find it without a light. He gave a silent message of thanks to the Thief Gods when his foot came into contact with cloth, scooped up the tunic off the floor, and hastily pulled it over his head. Sitting back down on the bed and scooting over to the far side to give Sandry enough room, he held open the covers. "Ok."  
  
Not sure why but feeling the need to, Sandry tiptoed over to where she remembered the edge of the bed being and carefully felt around for the mattress before crawling onto it. As soon as she was completely on the bed, she reached to pull down the blanket that Briar was holding over her while being careful to not actually touch him. A minute passed in silence as the two laid on their backs, eyes wide open, too aware of the other to become comfortable. Eventually Sandry gave into her desire and moved slightly closer to Briar's side, just enough to brush her arm against his. Hesitant, but determined, she asked a single question. "Will you hold me?"  
  
Briar happily, though shakily, complied. He turned on his side to face her and edged even closer as his arms reached out toward her. In response, Sandry turned on her side toward him and cuddled into his arms, laying her hands and face against his chest. Briar's arms tightened around her as he allowed himself to relax against her slim form.  
  
They were sound asleep in moments.  
  
  
  
  
  
**_Andrea Rimsky:_** Thanks for the review! ^_^ First I was confused by it... what prince am I killing? But anyway, that's not the main point of this address. You have a great point about why characters have to be thin. And I totally agree with you, being overweight doesn't make a character bad. In fact, in the books, I always felt like Tris's being overweight really contributed to who she is. However, there is a guy in this story that Tris likes [He hasn't been introduced yet, but I did mention him in the 2nd part of the story]. Tris lost weight because she wanted to look nice for the guy she likes. And I always got the feeling from Tris in the books that she never lost weight because she just didn't feel like it, not necessarily because she couldn't, so now I gave her a reason to want to lose it, and she did. I'm sorry if this still bothers you, but that's my reasoning. I just wanted to make it clear that I never thought Tris had to be thin in order to be an interesting character. 


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